


You Don't Own Me (Grace, G-Easy)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Bottoming from the Top, Castiel Gives Oral Sex, Castiel needs a smack then a hug because he's been stupid, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Dean Gives Oral Sex, Dean finally uses his words yay!, Fuck Or Die, Kinda, M/M, Poor Dean, Rape/Non-con Elements, Small amount of physical violence, Spells & Enchantments, Top Dean, blowjob, totally justified tho, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13469580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: Sequel to 'I Wanna Do Bad Things with You'Castiel goes to his Auntie for help, only to discover a horrifying truthNow he has to explain things to Dean.  And Charlie.Oh boy.





	You Don't Own Me (Grace, G-Easy)

**Author's Note:**

> Over 8,000 words? Fml
> 
> I've had to outline at least two more chapters for this one.  
> At this point, I'm starting to doubt I'll ever write a one-shot again.
> 
> Oy to the vey

You Don’t Own Me (Grace, G-Easy)

            “Hello, Auntie,” Castiel spoke into his cell phone as he descended the porch steps.

 

            “Castiel, sweetling, how is everything going?”

 

            Castiel turned right at the corner to start his long walk home.  He could have called Charlie to pick him up, but he didn’t deserve that.  He deserved to walk forever, never stopping, until he dropped dead. “Not well.  We have- _I_ have a serious problem.”

 

            “Oh?” Castiel sighed and swallowed his pride.

 

            “Can you come over tonight?” he asked shyly.

 

            “I’m afraid not, my dearest.  But you are welcome to visit me at my home.”

 

            “Okay.  I’ll be there in an hour and a half.  Good bye, Auntie.”

 

            Castiel spent his time reviewing every step he’d taken last week, looking for the flaw that had led to such a colossal fuck-up.  Dean was a complete mess, utterly out of control and possibly going insane and it was all Castiel’s fault.  He had to find a way to save him.

 

 

 

            That first night, Amara had called him back two hours later with a list of ingredients to acquire and purifying rituals he was to perform, as well as a timeline culminating in a week.  She explained that since she and her coven were helping with the spell, it could not be counted toward his initiation into the coven, he would have to go through another spell entirely alone to achieve that goal.  The news didn’t bother him in the slightest, he was thoroughly confident in his ability to work another spell of sufficient power to please the coven.  After he had Dean’s love, of course.  With such a righteous man at his side, he could surpass anyone’s wildest expectations.  Love was the most powerful force in the universe and what he felt for Dean, compounded with an equal love returned to him, would elevate his standing in the coven from novice to master practically overnight.  It wasn’t his primary goal, but definitely a nice side-effect.

 

              Tuesday, he plucked a stray hair from the collar of Dean’s shirt, resisting the urge to touch the delicately freckled skin on the back of his neck.  Wednesday, he was able to gather a usable palm print off Dean’s locker door.  By Thursday morning, he finally had all the required ingredients and only one more cleansing ritual to perform on Saturday night.

 

            “I think Kevin likes you,” Charlie told him at lunch Thursday afternoon.

 

            Castiel tilted his head in confusion, “Who?” he asked before biting into his sandwich.

 

            “Kevin Tran? From my Calculus class?”

 

            “Why would you think that? I don’t even know him.”

 

            “Well, he knows you.  Or, at least, he wants to.  He keeps asking me all these questions about you, like, every day this week.  Frankly, it’s getting a little creepy.”

 

            “Isn’t he a freshman?”

 

            “Sophomore, but he’s like, fourteen, I think,” she mused before finishing off her pudding cup.

 

            Castiel wrinkled his nose, “No thanks, not a pedophile.  I will never understand how you can eat that garbage.  Do you have any idea how bad that is for you?”

 

            Charlie stuck her chocolate-covered tongue out at him. “Child,” he sighed.

 

            “I’m not worried, _you’re_ no pedophile.”

 

 

 

            Castiel got to Amara’s house at nine Sunday morning.  He felt more than a little nervous, but the thought of the way Dean had ignored him all week spurred him into action.  His knock was answered immediately.  Amara came to the door in her customary long, black dress.  He wasn’t so blind as to say she was unattractive, with dark, wavy hair and soulful brown eyes, but her allure was lost on him.  Not only because he was practically a six on the Kinsey scale, but her tutelage of him the past three years had made him think of her as family, almost more of a mother to him than his own mother.  The title of ‘Auntie’ was purely an honorific on his part, they weren’t even related. “Castiel, pet, please come in.”

 

            The spell had taken four hours to set up and one to perform and the smell of myrrh hung heavy around Castiel for the remainder of the afternoon, as he slept in the guest room upstairs.  Five members of the coven had participated, all women with an affection for Castiel.  The spell’s author had been Rowena, of course, as that was her special skill.  The only part of the ritual that had made Castiel at all uncomfortable had been the last part, where he’d been required to provide fresh ejaculate gotten while thinking about Dean.  The chanting of the coven around him as he pictured his love in all manner of obscene positions and situations had put a bit of a damper on the proceedings, but Castiel held fast to the possibility that this would be the last time he would need their help for something so…personal. 

 

Everything had gone off without a hitch, though, so to speak, and he had felt exactly as they told him he would.  As the chanting built and he concentrated on picturing Dean, images he had not conjured appeared to him.  What must be the kitchen of Dean’s house, Dean standing at the stove, Castiel seated at the table with a teenage boy, possibly Sam, possibly some future child of his and Dean’s, the entire scene awash in the light of love.  Another image of he and Dean snuggled up together, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching television.  Yet another of them walking through the hallways at school, holding hands and gazing at each other lovingly, kissing softly.  These images almost broke his focus.  He knew instantly that they were coming from Dean, his own fantasies tended more toward the carnal, so he knew the connection was made and was, indeed, very strong.  His concern stemmed from the _nature_ of the fantasies.  They surprised him enough to make his strokes falter for half a second.  He had been operating under the impression that Dean thought little of him, if at all, but these images proved otherwise.  As the spell reached its culmination and he came onto the spelled mirror, his concerns were washed away with the blinding blue-white light of love.  He awoke some hours later, warm and secure in the guest room.

 

Castiel had walked the two blocks home that evening in the soft, pink glow of the setting sun as if on a cloud and spent the rest of the night alternating between fevered masturbation to fantasies of Dean naked and at his command, and leisurely dreaming up elaborate pictures of their life together.  He was perturbed by the fact that he didn’t ejaculate even once, although he had no trouble reaching orgasm almost a dozen times.  Even though he knew she would have no such qualms, he was loathe to address this aspect with Amara, out of his own discomfort with the subject.  He also might have been more than a little apprehensive about looking like a stumbling fool in front of the coven if he asked too many questions or showed any regret.

 

Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough and Castiel spent the night before dreaming about Dean, feeling strangely tired when he woke up Monday.  He masturbated once more in the shower, vowing to abstain for the rest of the day, hoping Dean would come to him at school and admit his love.  When he stopped off at the bathroom before Sculpture, he was still wondering when he could expect to see Deans striding down the hallway toward him.  Maybe he would sweep Castiel up in his big arms and kiss him passionately in front of everyone.  Maybe they would duck into the janitor’s closet and-

 

As he opened the stall door, Dean pushed him backward and locked the door, covering Castiel’s body with his own a split second later, pressing him into the cold metal of the dividing wall hard.  Castiel was trapped by the older boy’s larger body and for a fraction of a second he was terrified, but then Dean rubbed their groins together and he was overwhelmed with _need_ like he’d never felt.  He cried out a little when Dean buried his face in his neck, he’d almost thought Dean was going to bite him, but he just inhaled loudly and moaned in pleasure.

 

            “Wh-what are you _do-doing_?” Castiel groaned as his hands scrambled for purchase on Dean’s hips, pulling him closer.  Amara had warned him about the lust he would feel, but he hadn’t expected Dean to be this…unhinged.

 

            “ _Fuck,_ you smell good,” Dean groaned and _licked_ Castiel’s neck, “Taste so good, better than I remember.”  Castiel’s knees tried to buckle but Dean held him fast, rolling his hips in an ever-increasing rhythm, jamming his rock-hard length against Castiel’s over and over until Castiel thought he would come in his pants, like the virgin he was.  He wasn’t ignorant of sex, even before he met Dean.  He’d watched porn, lots of it, but only to figure out the mechanics and check out things he might enjoy someday.  He knew he still had a lot to learn, but it looked like Dean was eager to teach him.  He slipped his fingers under Dean’s shirts and the instant he touched bare flesh, his need intensified tenfold.  He groaned into Dean’s mouth as they kissed, until Dean pulled back with tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

            “Can I…Cas, please?  Let me, Castiel.  I hafta… _please_!”  Dean was _crying_?  Why?  Castiel nodded, thinking he would allow Dean anything if he would just stop crying.  Dean dropped to his knees on the dirty bathroom floor, but he didn’t look happy, he looked…relieved?  “Thank you, thank you, Cas! Thank you, God…I just…I hafta… _fuck_ …”  Oh no, something was very wrong here.  Something was wrong with Dean, his voice sounded pained, tortured even, like he’d do anything…like Castiel would do anything…oh, fuck…oh, God…Castiel opened his mouth to stop Dean but then his aching cock was enveloped in perfect heat and wet suction.  He turned wide eyes down and watched Dean swallow his entire dick in one go, groaning as the head of Castiel’s dick hit the back of his throat.  His tongue writhed along Castiel’s length and that was it, “ _Fuck, Dean_!  I…I’m…gon- _fuck_!” he cried as he came like a geyser down Dean’s beautiful throat.  The vibrations around his dick as Dean moaned threatened to make him come again so he looked at the ceiling and tried to focus on the gross water stains.  When he felt Dean tucking his dick back in his pants, he looked down at the top of Dean’s head as the older boy muttered a stream of apologies.

 

            As he heaved himself off the floor, Castiel automatically reached out to help, only to have Dean flinch away from him like he was on fire.  He wouldn’t raise his eyes, but just kept apologizing, like he’d _forced_ Castiel.  “Don’t apologize, Dean,” he sighed, his head tipped back on the wall, his eyes looking back up at the ceiling, “It wasn’t your fault, not at all.”

 

            “Of course, it is,” Dean hissed.  “I just _assaulted_ you in a goddamn bathroom at _school_ , for fuck’s sake, Cas, I-“

 

            “It **_isn’t_** your fault, Dean,” Castiel leveled him with a significant look.

 

            Now, Dean looked pissed, “What do you mean?”  Oh, this was so bad.  Castiel swallowed hard and looked away, unable to meet Dean’s eyes now, as a blush heated up his neck.  “Did you-did you…give me something?” Castiel shook his head and closed his eyes.  Dean obviously didn’t want any of this.  “Cas, look at me.  Did you drug me? What’s going on? What did you do to me?”  Castiel shook his head again and a tear slipped out, rolling down his cheek.  He was putting Dean through Hell and he had no idea how to save him.  The noise of Dean hitting the metal divider and yelling jerked him out of his moment of self-flagellation.  This wasn’t the time for that, right now, he had to find a way to explain this whole thing to Dean, so he went with him to his house.

 

 

 

            Castiel waited the entire drive over to Dean’s house for the older boy to explode, scream at him, or hit him, or maybe even push him out of the car and he would have deserved all that after what he’d done to the man he claimed to love.  He kept waiting as they walked into the house, thinking Dean would prefer to kill him behind closed doors, but he silently walked upstairs, so Castiel followed.  Watching Dean kick off his boots, then his jeans, and finally his shirt, his back to Castiel, like he was alone, not just in the room but in the world, broke Castiel’s heart and he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out to touch the poor man.  But the instant he did, he knew he’d fucked up again.  Heat flared at the contact, consuming him as it climbed up his arm and shot down to his dick as Dean shoved him back against the door.  Everything in him screamed for _DeanDeanDean_ , so he grabbed his face and did what he’d wanted to do in the bathroom stall.  Before he knew it, he was pushing Dean down to the bed and he stared down at Dean’s flushed cheeks and spit-slick lips with triumphant satisfaction.

 

                        “Will you…will you fuck me, Cas? Please?” And, God help him, but something cold slithered out of his lizard brain when Dean spoke like that, something sick and wrong whispering to him ‘he’s yours, all yours, just take him, show him what it is to love you’.  He was completely powerless to stop it, he just _wanted_ so much.  As he watched Dean scramble up the bed, Castiel realized how hard the other boy was, how flushed his chest was, his breath coming out in short panting huffs.  He stripped his clothes off as he rationalized.  The spell would’t have worked without _some_ attraction on Dean’s side.  He clearly wanted Castiel, had _feelings_ for him.  The whole thing seemed to be building toward something…maybe this.  Maybe the spell only needed consummation to alleviate Dean’s symptoms.  It made a sick sort of sense, when Castiel thought of it like that.  The spell just needed proof that the love was equal on both sides of the connection, then it would level out.  So, he really _had_ to fuck Dean, to save him, of course.  Anything for Dean, everything was for Dean.

 

            And it was _glorious,_ and Dean loved it, _loved_ it.  He begged and squirmed and his dick leaked like a sieve and he _told_ Castiel he needed it, needed him.  And when he came, sweet Lord, when he came _untouched_ between them and his back arched up and he _screamed_ his pleasure at the sky, Castiel held him together, put him back together, reshaping him in the image of their love.  It was the first truly spiritual experience of Castiel’s life, when he spilled his seed inside his lover for the first time, and he praised all the powers that be for leading him down this path.  Dean was so overwhelmed with love, he passed out.

 

            Castiel held Dean until he felt he might be able to stand, then he cleaned them both up, arranging Dean in a more comfortable position, and curled up to rest with his love.  When Dean hummed into his hair and broke his lazy dozing with firm arms wrapping tightly around Castiel, his heart soared.  But then, he pushed Castiel and rolled away and Cas knew it hadn’t worked, he could see the horror and shame all over Dean’s face, before he even opened his mouth.  Castiel wished in that moment he’d never met Dean Winchester, never told Gabriel yes, never been born at all.  Clearly, he was a curse on Dean and a blight on the world.  None of what Dean said surprised him or even really angered him, he deserved far, far worse.  As sad and hateful as Dean seemed now, he would be fine once Castiel fixed this.  He had to get to Auntie and the coven, had to find a way to reverse the spell, maybe even wipe Dean’s memories of him entirely.

 

 

 

            “Auntie,” Castiel said with relief when Amara answered her front door.  Amara looked at him with something like pity in her eyes as she ushered him inside.

 

            “Come, sit here, lovely,” she cooed, directing him to sit on the overstuffed couch in her living room.  Amara curled up next to him and ran her hands through his hair.  Inexplicably, he felt her sniff at his neck or her own fingers occasionally as he explained the state Dean was in and the anguish they had caused him.

 

            “We have to break the spell, reverse it, cast something to counter it, whatever it takes.  I have to make this better, Auntie.  I had no right to do this to him!”  Amara hummed into his hair and inhaled again, her exhale warming his scalp and making gooseflesh break out down his neck at the same time.  “Did you hear me?”

 

            “Hmm, yes, I heard you,” she breathed.  Castiel sat up, brushing her away from his head, turning to look at her.  She flopped back against the couch and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes.  “What…what are you doing?”  She looked high, or drunk, and she hadn’t looked that way when he came in.

 

            “Nothing,” she grinned lazily, “I’m not doing anything.” The glazed-over look on her face seemed to dissipate, leaving her looking younger and refreshed.  She breathed in deeply and stretched like a cat, “And I’m not _going_ to do anything, either.”  Amara pushed off Castiel’s knee and stood up from the couch, walking toward the kitchen.

 

            “What?” Castiel breathed.  He bolted off the couch and followed her.  She was filling a kettle for tea, like his life (not to mention Dean’s) wasn’t ruined.  “What do you _mean_?  You _have_ to help me!”

 

            Amara turned cold eyes on him, glaring at him like he was so much dogshit on her shoe, “Why on Earth would I do that?”  She huffed at Castiel’s dumbfounded expression. “Idiot child, did you seriously believe we were helping you out of the goodness of our hearts? Oh Castiel, I knew you were foolish, but I never took you for _willfully_ ignorant.” Amara turned the stove on and walked over to get two mugs down from the cabinet. “You really had no idea he was your soulmate, did you?” she said with false sympathy, “That just makes this sadder, I suppose.”

 

            “How-how did you…what di-did you…” Castiel stammered.

 

            “You were just another ingredient in the spell.  Why do you think I gave you the same purifying rituals we use to prepare the lambs before we bleed them?  One does not share power with the sacrifice, Castiel. I’d have thought you had at least learned that much by now.” The whistling of the kettle made Castiel jump.  He narrowed his eyes as Amara placed tea bags in the mugs and poured the boiling water over them.  “So, no, I will not help you end a spell that has given me so much already and will continue to supply generous amounts every time you consummate it.” She handed a mug to Castiel.  “And you will continue to consummate it, or else.”

 

            “Or else what?” Castiel growled, knuckles turning white as he gripped the mug of hot tea.

 

            Amara took a slow sip of her tea, eyes meeting Castiel’s over the rim of her mug, and pulled the bag out delicately, “Take the bag out, Castiel or it will over-steep.” She sat gracefully in one of the spindly wrought iron chairs at the table.  At Castiel’s continued silence, she sighed and smirked at him, “Or else Dean will slowly go insane with lust and eventually kill himself, if he can’t have you.”

 

            Castiel’s heart plummeted into his shoes.  The answer presented itself quite naturally at the thought of Dean’s death, “If I die, the spell is broken, and Dean goes free.”

 

            Amara smiled graciously at him, “I’m afraid not.  You see, Rowena and I worked a codicil into the spell whereby I can transfer ‘ownership’ of your side of the curse to myself, in the event of your untimely demise.” Amara looked away briefly and hummed to herself, as if something had just occurred to her, “That might actually be better.  Dean is _quite_ an attractive young man.” She grinned slyly up at him.

 

            Castiel’s blood ran cold.  He couldn’t panic, not if he didn’t want Dean to suffer an eternity as Amara’s sex slave.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his trembling hands to steady, before placing the mug in his hand gently down on the kitchen table.  “That won’t be necessary, _Auntie_ ,” he said softly, trying to keep at least some of the rage roiling beneath his skin in check.  He lowered his head in submission. “Everything will continue as it was, I assure you.”

 

            “Either way is fine with me, dearest, although I might feel a twinge of guilt if you were to shuffle off this mortal coil,” she took Castiel’s limp hand and rubbed a thumb over his knuckles before squeezing with more strength than she ought to possess, “You really have been my favorite pet these last few years.  I would hate to lose you over _a boy._ ” She pouted prettily at him.

 

            “Of course, Auntie,” he whispered.  Satisfied with his compliance, Amara let his hand slip from hers and turned back to her tea.

 

            “Rinse your cup out before you leave, dear.  Perhaps you should go check on Dean, hm?”

 

            Castiel did as he was told, trying desperately not to let the mug rattle into the dish drainer, and walked as quickly as he dared out of the house.  Stepping off Amara’s front porch into the sunlight was like coming up from the depths of the dark ocean to the blessed air above.  He took a deep breath and hurried down the path, out to the street and off her property.  As soon as he was clear of her demonic influence, something he had always mistook for the thrum of power afforded anyone with her command of magic, he fumbled his phone out of his jeans and shot a quick text to the only person he could think of, the only person who cared enough about him to help.

 

**_Meet me at Dean Winchester’s house after school.  Please don’t ask why, but I need your help.  You’re our only hope, Charlie._ **

 

            Castiel added Dean’s address and ran back to Dean’s house.

 

 

 

            He had to slow down the last block when his phone buzzed in his hand.  The only reply had been a puzzled ‘ ** _Okay, Leia_** ’, and he took the few minutes of walking to try to catch his breath.  He was terrified of what he would find when he got back to Dean’s house, but he had to make sure he was still sane enough he would understand what they were up against.  He knocked and waited…and waited…knocked again, louder this time and waited…and waited.  Turning the knob proved the door was unlocked and he entered cautiously, fear souring his stomach.

 

            “Dean?” he called as he stepped over the threshold.  He heard a moan from upstairs and closed the front door in relief.  At least he was still alive.  A thump and heavy footsteps sounded over his head.  Suddenly, Dean was at the top of the stairs, still naked, face wet and chest red from crying.

 

            “ ** _CAS!!_** ” he sobbed, sinking to his knees.  Castiel ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his heart trying to burst out his chest.  He folded to the floor in front of Dean, who was holding himself up on his knuckles, his arms shaking as more cries wracked his body.  Castiel tentatively touched his arm and Dean’s head shot up, eyes red-rimmed and wild, pupils dilated.  He grappled Castiel down to the floor with a grunt, gasping into his mouth as he rutted his hard dick against Castiel’s hip.

 

            “Oh, _God_! Please, baby, please…ungh! Cas, baby, need you…please…please, _please_ , baby… _it hurts_!”  Dean babbled desperately.

 

            Castiel pushed him up enough to look in his eyes as they darted around, like Dean was trying to look at every inch of him all at once.  Castel swallowed roughly, tears already sliding down his face, “I’m sorry, Dean.  This is all my fault-“

 

            “Then make it up to me!” Dean cried breathlessly, “Fuck me, Cas! Come on!” Dean backed up, not letting go of Castiel’s arms, and pulled them both up.  He kissed Castiel madly, hands seemingly everywhere.  Cas was helpless to the onslaught, trying to get a firm grip on Dean’s sweat-slick skin to push him off.  “NO!” Dean cried manically, pulling Castiel with him down the hallway, “Come on! Come on, Cas!”

 

            “Dean, we-we can’t, I can’t!” Castiel argued as Dean pulled him into his bedroom and toward the bed.  “This isn’t you! You don’t want this!”

 

            Dean was clawing at Castiel’s clothes, whining when his fingers wouldn’t obey his obvious wish to get Cas naked.  “I _do_ want this!  I want _you!_ I _need_ you!! Please, Cas, I’ll do anything!”  Dean abruptly released his hold on Cas’ shirt and scrambled up on the bed.  “I want you to fuck me, or-or I’ll fuck _you_ , if you want!  Whatever you want, anything!  Everything for you, Cas…I’ll-I’ll suck your dick, or…you can suck mine and I’ll jack you off,” the hopeful look on Dean’s face made fresh tears spring to Castiel’s eyes and he started unbuttoning his shirt, toeing off his shoes and kicking them aside.  The gleam of triumphant joy that burst across Dean’s face reminded Castiel sickeningly of the way some of the patients at work, after dementia had stripped them of everything that made them a whole person and thrust them back into early childhood, reacted when given their favorite desert. 

 

            Naked, Castiel couldn’t stop a sob of his own from escaping as his got up on the bed with Dean and kissing him tenderly.  Dean melted into him with a sigh of relief and a smile that looked more like a grimace.  Castiel eased him back to the bed and straddled his hips to maintain skin-on-skin contact as it seemed to lessen Dean’s symptoms slightly.  Castiel spotted the bottle of lube lying beside the pillow and snatched it up.  The level in the bottle was significantly lower than it had been earlier, and he could only imagine that Dean had been up here masturbating furiously the whole time he had been gone.  Castiel squirted some out on his fingers and bent over to kiss along Dean’s heaving chest.

 

            “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s skin, “I know you don’t really want this and I’ll never forgive myself for putting you through this Hell, but I’m going to take care of you and-and I’m going to fix this, I swear.  I do love you, so much, Dean, but that’s no excuse for what I’ve done.  I was selfish and stupid, and-and I took the choice away from you and I know you hate me, you should hate me.  You should want me dead-“

 

            “No!” Dean sobbed, “Don’t say that! Castiel, I _love_ you! Please don’t leave me again!”

 

            Castiel shushed him as he sat up, rubbing the excess lube along Dean’s throbbing cock before lining it up with his hole and sinking onto it.  He hadn’t prepped enough, and Dean was _big,_ it burned and ached so much as he sunk down, letting Dean’s dick open him up.  He hissed at the pain but kept pushing, bearing down until he sat on Dean’s hips, Dean’s fingers digging bruises into his thighs.  “Dean…Dean…” he panted, his breath stolen by the immensity of being so _full_ for the first time, “I love you…love you so much…I won’t let her hurt you…I won’t…won’t let you die…”

 

            “Oh God, _Cas_ ,” Dean whimpered and threw his head back onto the bed as Castiel lifted up a little and slid back down, “Ungh!  Fuck, oh shit, baby…love you…please, Cas…oh God yes, please…yeah…yeah…yeah, fuck yourself on my cock…so good, baby…so fucking good…oh Jesus, Cas…yes, fas-faster…ungh…ungh…oh shit yes…Oh God, I can’t…can’t last…so good…too good…fuck yes, like that…” Dean stared up at him as Castiel braced on the broad chest under him, riding Dean’s dick faster and faster, his thighs and lungs burning from the effort. 

 

            “Touch me, Dean…please…” Castiel gasped and Dean wrapped his big hand around Castiel’s dick, sweat and precum smoothing the way.  It was only a few strokes before Castiel felt his orgasm rolling through him, sparks flying behind his eyes, and he rutted frantically into Dean’s hand then back onto his dick, fucking himself through it.  Dean’s jaw tightened as he groaned and bowed up off the bed, spilling warmth deep inside Castiel, before collapsing back to the bed, gasping for air.  He opened his eyes and locked onto Castiel’s in shock before he passed out again.

 

            Castiel let his head hang between his shoulders as he tried to get his breathing under control, then climbed gingerly off Dean’s hips, his slack dick slipping messily out of Cas’ sore hole, making him wince.  He sat on the bed and let the real tears come, crying hard, body shaking in grief over what he’d done.  Every inadvertent glimpse at Dean, unconscious and sprawled across the bed, awoke a fresh wave of horror and regret.  Finally, he couldn’t stand the thought of Dean waking up, covered in come and lube, with the man he hated but needed so badly sitting next to him, bawling like a child.  Castiel forced himself to get up and wobble to the bathroom for a washcloth.

 

 

 

            By the time he heard a knock at the door, he had Dean cleaned up and covered with a sheet.  After a few more knocks, he listened as the front door opened and he sagged in relief when Charlie’s voice drifted up the stairs, “Castiel?”

 

            “Up here!” he called.  His voice woke Dean and he groaned, trying to roll toward Castiel in the bed.  Castiel hesitantly ran a hand down Dean’s shoulder as the older boy opened his eyes slowly.

 

            He stared at Castiel briefly and his brows lowered in confusion and anger, “What are you doing here?” he growled lowly.

 

            “If you want this to end, if you want to _ever_ be free of me,” Castiel took a breath and forced himself to remain calm, “you’ll listen to what I have to say.  I _can_ fix this, if you’ll let me.”

 

            “Castiel?” Charlie called from out in the hall.

 

            Dean sat up quickly, pulling the sheet around his hips, “Who the fuck is that?” he hissed at Castiel.

 

            “My friend, Charlie? She can help. She’s probably the only one who _can_.”

 

            Charlie peeked her head around the door frame and immediately jerked it back, “Casti- _el_!  What the frak?!  Why are you guys-oh good Gryffindor! Did you two just _do it_?!”

 

            “Charlie!” Castiel said impatiently, “Just-just come in here, please?  I don’t want to have to tell this whole story twice, okay?” Dean glared at him again and sat up against the headboard, dragging the sheet with him.

 

            Charlie crept in, her hand over her eyes, “Gross! It smells like pad Thai in here,” she grumbled.

 

            “Oh for-Charlie! We’re covered up! Look where you’re going.  Unless you want to land on the bed with us?” Castiel chastised.

 

            Charlie let her hand fall, but kept looking anywhere except the bed, walking over to the chair at Dean’s desk and flopping down, “Why am I here, Castiel?  I mean, seriously, you could have just called me later to brag.”

 

            Dean scoffed and Castiel glared at him, so Dean stuck his tongue out at him and crossed his arms.  Castiel sighed and looked back at Charlie, “I’ve, uh, I really fucked up this time, Char, and I-we really need your help.”

 

            “Are you pregnant already, Novak?” Charlie laughed.

 

            “Uh, no.  I, um, well, I kinda castaspellonDeanandnowhemightdie,” Castiel slurred into his chest.

 

 ** _“WHAT?!?!?!”_** Charlie and Dean screamed together.

 

            “I might _die_?” Dean cried at the same time Charlie growled, “You piece of _shit_!”

 

            “Alright! Alright! Will you just let me explain?!” Castiel yelled.

 

            “Just one thing first.  Excuse me, Dean,” Charlie said sweetly as she climbed on the foot of the bed and decked Castiel as hard as she could.

 

            “Ha!” Dean laughed, “I like her!” he told Castiel.  “I like you!” he told Charlie.

 

            Charlie smiled at him, “I like you, too, Dean.”

 

            Castiel wiped at his lip and looked at the blood on his fingers, “Okay, ahh, yep, I deserved that.”

 

            “You deserve a lot worse than that! Dean, your turn,” Charlie told them.

 

            “My pleasure,” Dean cocked his fist back.

 

            “You’ll get hard again!” Castiel cried, flinching away from Dean.

 

            Dean lowered his fist and flopped back against the headboard, “Fine,” he pouted.

 

            “Can I please explain now?” Castiel begged.

 

            “Can I get some water?” Dean asked Charlie.

 

            “Sure, sweetie, here,” she handed him her bottle of water out of her backpack.

 

            Dean drank half the bottle in one slug, then looked expectantly over at Cas, being sure to keep the bottle out of his reach when the younger boy eye-balled the water, “Go ahead.”

 

            “First, Charlie, I have to apologize to you.  Last year, when I told you I stopped going over to Amara’s, I lied.”

 

            “Frakkin’ A, Castiel!”

 

            “I was going to, I really was, but she offered to help me find Gabriel when he was missing all those months!  And, then, I guess, I just kept going because she only ever did _good_ things, white magic!  That lily I gave you for your birthday? I grew that _overnight_!”

 

            “You did?” Castiel nodded. “Oh, that _is_ cool.” Castiel smiled. “But-but wait! What about Dean? What did you do to him?”

 

            Castiel glanced at Dean, long enough to see the glower the older boy was aiming at him.  He quickly looked back down at the sheet, his fingers twisting in it restlessly, “I, well, I kinda fell in love with him.”

 

            “How?” Dean asked incredulously, “You don’t even _know_ me!”

 

            “After the party, I, well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you…about what we did,” Dean blushed and flicked his eyes over at Charlie before ducking his head when she mouthed ‘Ew’.  “I, um, wanted to know more about you, so I kind of…checked you out.”

 

            “He internet stalked you,” Charlie supplied when Dean looked up at her, confused.  When he glared at her, she threw her hands up, “I didn’t know anything about it, man!  He just asked me if I knew you, that was it!”

 

            “Anyway…you were, or rather, you _are_ just so…amazing, Dean…so perfect and I just thought about you more.  How you helped your mother when your dad, um, passed away and how you take care of Sam,” Dean growled dangerously at the mention of his little brother.  Castiel looked away quickly and scooted as far as he dared away from the older boy, “and, like, how you do so well in school, and you work! You work, too, and you’ve Lettered in wrestling three years in a row, and, and,” Castiel slumped, “I just…thought you’d, um, you’d never want anyone like me, but I could, I could make you happy, Dean, I could!  I would be there for you, always! I would do anything for you, I would always come when you called! I would give up everything for you, just to be with you!”  Castiel panted and tried to stop the tears that threatened to fall when he thought about never having this, never getting to be with Dean, now that he’d fucked it up so badly.

 

            Dean and Charlie sat in stunned silence.  “I know, I’m sorry, I fucked everything up…I’m so sorry,” the tears finally won the battle and slipped down Castiel’s cheeks.

 

            “Jesus,” Charlie whispered at the same time Dean mumbled, “I liked you, too.”

 

            “What?!” Charlie and Castiel asked together.

 

            “I…that next Monday, at school?  I waved at you…but you just, you just walked away and you looked, like, petrified that I might talk to you.  So, I figured, you know, you found out what a slut I am and you didn’t…you wouldn’t want to be with someone like that, ‘cause you’re a nice guy, like smart and serious and shit…so I thought, yeah…you were too good for me,” Dean mumbled.

 

            “Kevin Tran,” Charlie said.  Dean looked at her guiltily, “That’s why Kevin was asking all those questions about you.  They’re friends.”

 

            Now, it was Castiel’s turn to look at Dean in shock, “I thought…I didn’t think you were waving at _me_!  Why would you wave at _me_? I’m…I’m a…I’m nothing, I’m nobody!  Nothing special, not like you,” Castiel said quietly.

 

            “You. Complete. _MORONS!!_ ” Charlie grabbed her own hair and pulled in frustration.  “Castiel, you didn’t fall in _love_ with him, I don’t care what you read on Facebook!  You fell in _lust_ and _maybe_ very strong like, but not _love._ Dean, you need to learn to talk with your words instead of your junk, maybe then you could have been _friends_ and then, maybe more later on.”  Charlie sagged in defeat and ran her hand back through her hair to straighten it. “Wait, back it up, where _is_ your brother?  Oh Zeus, where’s your _mother_?”

 

            “Sam’s off on a camping trip for the week, some Teen Nature Guides thing, and Mom’s at work until ten.”

 

            “Whew! Okay, so, Castiel, what _exactly_ did you do? What was this spell?”

 

            “It was, um, a love spell? It was supposed to create a bond, make Dean feel for me what I feel for him.  But, um, something went wrong-“

 

            “I’ll say,” Dean huffed.

 

            “I _thought_ something went wrong, but when I went to ask Auntie to help me break the spell, she, uh…she, um…she said she wouldn’t, um because…because she’s _using_ it, using _us_ …as a kind of limitless power supply…”

 

            “So, let me get this straight: you wanted me to fall in love with you, so you and your witch buddies put the hoodoo on me, and now, I’m some witch’s human battery?”

 

            “Just like in the Matrix,” Charlie whispered.  Dean cut a bitch face at her, “Sorry.”

 

            “That’s not all,” Castiel continued, “She said if we don’t, um, fornicate, um, regularly, um, Dean will…he’ll go crazy and die.”

 

            “Jesus,” Dean groaned at the same time Charlie grumbled, “Double gross.”

 

            “So, I told her I’d kill myself and she wouldn’t get shit,” Castiel spit out angrily.

 

            “Casti- _el_!” Charlie groused.  Dean said nothing, just glared down at his own lap.

 

            “I can’t anyway, because if I _do_ , she can take over my side, and keep Dean for herself, to use for power and…other stuff.”

 

            “Wow, Cas! That’s just fucking _awesome_!  So, if you kick the bucket, I get to be some witch’s sex slave _and_ human battery; and if you _don’t_ die, I get to be your sex slave and her human battery until I go _crazy_ and _die_.  That’s just…that’s _spectacular_.  Thank you, thank you very **_fucking_** much!  You couldn’t have just _waved **back** at me_?!” Dean ranted as he started to stand up off the bed, the sheet inching lower and lower.  Charlie squeaked and covered her eyes with both hands.

 

            “Sit down,” Castiel gritted out between clenched teeth.

 

            “Fuck _you_ , Castiel!  I don’t want to be in the same room as you! And that brings up another good point, why the fuck are we _still naked_?!”

 

            “If we try to put clothes on or leave each other, you get a never-ending boner and masturbate continuously.”  Dean sat back down heavily with a muttered ‘Fuck’.

 

            Dean buried his head in his hands, mumbling, “I freakin’ hate witches.”

 

            “Me too,” Castiel murmured.

 

            “Me three,” Charlie agreed.

 

            The three sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, Dean nursing sullenly on his water bottle, until the action had his dick perking up, and he thrust the bottle into Castiel’s shoulder.  Castiel upended the bottle, throat bobbing as he swallowed, and that was actually worse, making Dean’s dick lengthen along the line of his thigh.  Dean groaned and Castiel looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

 

            “Charlie,” Castiel said calmly, “I need you to go to my house.  In the back of my closet is a small door, behind the shirts.  On the shelf inside is my grimoire and three notebooks.  Get all of them and the blue tacklebox under the shelf.  Now. Please.”

 

            “Oh, sure, I’ll just be your frakkin’ secretary,” Charlie grumbled, then she looked between the two boys on the bed, “Oh, _oh_ , um, yeah, no problem, no problem _at all_.”  He hastily fumbled her backpack onto her back and ran for the door.

 

            “And Charlie,” Castiel added, eyes locked with Dean’s.

 

            “Yeah?” she asked from the doorway.

 

            “Take your time, like, an hour?”

 

            “Um, yup, sure.  Uh, it was nice to meet you, Dean.”

 

            Dean waved good bye without breaking eye contact with Castiel.

 

            “Okay then, see you guys later,” she threw back as she ran for the stairs.

 

            “Dean-“ Castiel started and then the door slammed and Dean was on him, pushing him back, almost off the bed, a flurry of hands and lips and tongue.  Cas rolled them back to the center of the bed and Dean groaned under him, rutting up into his thigh and grappling with him, trying to pull him closer and line up their dicks. Castiel growled down at him and broke the kiss, “Stop, Dean, **_stop_**!” Dean panted, whining and wiggling under him.  “We have to be careful.  You’re getting really…um, chafed…uh, down there.” Dean moaned in frustration and looked like he would cry, and then his eyebrows shot up.

 

            “I know what to do!  I got it, Cas, come ‘ere,” he cried happily, pulling Cas with him up the bed.  He manhandled Castiel until he was lying on his side, then Dean flipped over and lined his bobbing dick up with Castiel’s face.  “I can suck you while you suck me, ‘k?” At Castiel’s surprised expression, Dean took the head of his cock in his mouth and sucked.  Castiel threw his head back and groaned out a surprised ‘Fuck’.  Dean looked back at him, “Please, Cas?”

 

            “Yeah, yeah, good idea,” Castiel grabbed the base of Dean’s abused cock and mouthed at the spongy head.  He really had no idea what to do, so he tried to emulate what Dean had done to him earlier and what he’d seen in pornos.  He wrapped his lips around Dean’s dick and worked his mouth as far as it would go, which wasn’t far before he gagged.  He popped off to take a huge, gasping breath and Dean whined.  He looked down at Dean to see him watching, biting his lip, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” and almost regretted it, until Dean swallowed his dick and his brain went offline.  He sucked the head of Dean’s dick back into his mouth, wriggling his tongue around as much as he could, pulling spit down the shaft to stroke what he couldn’t fit in his mouth.  Dean moaned around Cas’ dick and tried to squirm closer, his hips making slight thrusts like he couldn’t help himself.  Castiel reached down with his left hand and grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair, pushing him into his crotch, forcing his dick down the tight channel of Dean’s throat.  Dean’s hips bucked wildly and his dick throbbed in Castiel’s mouth.  Castiel had no idea where this dominant behavior was coming from.  By all rights, _he_ should be doing whatever _Dean_ wanted, not the other way around.  Dean should be holding him down and fucking him deliriously, not letting Cas dictate _anything._

 

            And then it dawned on him, this _was_ what Dean wanted.  He wanted to get fucked hard.  He wanted to get on his knees in a filthy bathroom stall for Castiel.  He wanted Castiel to ride him for his own pleasure.  This new information blew Castiel’s circuits and he slammed into Dean’s mouth over and over, keeping up the loose strokes and gentle suction on Dean’s cock.  Dean leaked precum all over his tongue and Cas growled.  Dean suddenly pushed back and off Cas’ dick, “I’m gonna come, fuck, Cas…ungh…but don’t swallow, ok?” and he went right back to it, sucking Castiel’s cock like it was his only source of oxygen, until he bucked against Cas one final time and came into his mouth.  Castiel felt his own orgasm explode in his groin, sending waves of heat throughout his body and he struggled to hold the mouthful of salty spend Dean had given him.

 

            Dean pulled off Castiel’s dick humming happily, his eyes lit up with satisfaction as he leaned up to bring Cas in for a kiss.  Castiel keened as Dean opened his lips, intent on sharing each other’s release.  He licked and sucked at Cas’ tongue, eking out every last drop of their combined taste, until he was gasping into Castiel’s mouth.  “God damn, Cas, that was so perfect…I love you so much,” he sighed as he pushed Cas onto his back, his kisses getting slower and sweeter.  He could feel the latest wave of need receding, like the tide, pulling away most of the urgency and mania with it, but that warmth around his heart when he looked at Castiel, hair all messed up because of Dean, lips glazed with Dean’s saliva, eyes looking up wide in adoration at Dean, he couldn’t deny he felt something for the guy.  Castiel just _wanted_ him so _much_ , more than anything else in the world, more than his family, more than his friends, more than his own future.  He knew it was wrong and ten kinds of fucked up, but he’d never felt that kind of love and he wouldn’t lie to himself anymore.

 

            “Dean,” Castiel sighed, “you don’t…you can’t love me, it’s just the spell…mph…Dean…wait…ah…ah…oh, God, please, Dean,” Castiel pulled Dean’s head away from where he was licking and sucking dark bruises into his collar bone.

 

            “Castiel,” Dean smiled down at him, “I _do_ love you.  And you can’t tell me how to feel, well, no more than you already have.” Dean stroked a thumb over Castiel’s sharp cheek bones, “I’m not saying I’m not pissed at you, I’m _beyond_ pissed at you.  In fact, if my dick wasn’t so sore, I’d probably take the chance of kicking off another wave by beating your ass into the floor.  And I’m not saying that I want to be with you like you wanted, if we even make it out of this alive, but I _do_ love you, right here and now.  And I’m going to help you, to save myself, to save us both.  Then we’ll see how we feel, without any outside interference.”  Dean kissed him once more and climbed off the bed.  “Come on, I’m taking a shower and you’re coming with me.”

 

 

 

            After they’d shared a chaste shower, Dean insisted they put on some shorts because he refused to eat naked and led Castiel downstairs to the kitchen.  The low-grade thrumming that had been singing through his veins had dissipated in the shower and Dean was trying not to get too optimistic that the spell had somehow just…stopped.  He and Cas ate huge bowls of cereal and almost an entire box of Pop-tarts in silence.

 

            Castiel finally looked up, “It’s not over,” like he was reading Dean’s mind, and for all Dean knew, he might be.

 

            “Maybe it is,” Dean shrugged.

 

            “Not likely.  This is probably going to happen every day, a couple hours reprieve to eat and rest.”

 

            Dean snorted into his cereal, “Yeah, can’t have a long battery life if she lets us starve to death because we can’t stop fucking.”

 

            “We would probably die of dehydration before we starved.”

 

            Dean suddenly wasn’t very hungry.  He pushed his bowl away and looked out the kitchen window at his car in the driveway, “We should get dressed and go to the store, get some bottled water or-“

 

            The front door slammed open, making them jump.  Charlie’s voice yelled, “GUYS?!”

 

            “In the kitchen,” Dean yelled back.

 

            Charlie stumbled in, throwing Castiel’s books on the table, along with a half-open tackle box, bundles of herbs and small animal bones scattering across the table.  “We…have a…big problem…” she panted at the stunned boys.

 

            “Wha-“ Dean started.

 

            “Amara…she was at your,” she swallowed and sat heavily in a chair next to Cas, “house…while I was in your room…I went in and…your mom didn’t even notice…” “Of course,” Castiel grumbled. “Anyway, I got…the stuff, whew, and um, I was at your door and someone knocked on the front door.  Your mom answered it and it was Amara.  I didn’t hear what they said, but then they were coming down the hall!  So, I went out the window, had to bust the screen out and I dropped the box, lost some of the shit, but then I got in my car and booked it back here.”

 

            “Fuckin’ great,” Dean mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

 

            “Charlie,” Cas said quietly, “Did Amara see you leave?”

 

            “I don’t know, maybe?” she looked down at herself, with her bright orange jacket, yellow ‘Firefly’ t shirt, and pink striped leggings.  She sagged into her chair, “Yeah, now that you mention it, it’s not like I’m inconfuckingspicous.”

 

            Castiel caught Dean’s eyes just as someone knocked on the front door.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't kill me!!!
> 
> I had to stop! 
> 
> I think I have permanent mark on my wrists from my laptop.
> 
> New chapter Thursday. Possibly Friday.
> 
>  
> 
> Probably Friday.


End file.
